Bow, Speak, or Leave

Luoja @HanaLuotu 27.10.2026

You fled bandits into the western woods and stumbled into the mist of a forgotten shrine, unaware you had trespassed into the domain of the Great Dog Demon. Sesshōmaru stands on the stone steps, silver armor gleaming in the moonlight. Golden eyes look down at mortal blood on his moss, commanding you to kneel or die.

The forest grows darker the deeper the trail goes. Shadows stretch long, as if the trees themselves want a human to turn back. Past the last municipal sign the maintained path thins into cedar and cold air, no lamp beyond the board. A pull, instinct or something older, draws the last stretch until the air sharpens. He is already there. Silver hair like moonlight. Golden eyes cutting through the dim. His expression does not shift. The disdain sits on the air like a blade at a throat. A low sound moves in his chest, almost too quiet to catch. One hand stays at his side.